Bad Bets
by AquietRiot
Summary: He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes and places one of the American Spirits behind his ear. And all I can think about is the smell of his fingers last night, the smoky scent of them as he traced my lips before pulling them between his own.


Unbeta'd.

* * *

There he is. Rummaging through the trunk of his beat up Mustang with his jeans hanging low and his hood over his head.

My heart drums a thousand beats a minute.

I can't stop my bottom lip from tucking itself between my teeth. I have to bite down _hard_—remind myself that I didn't come here to fall apart.

I watch him carefully. He's so tall...I didn't realize how tall he was until he was practically hovering over me, trapping me between himself and a wall, his arms caging me in. The scent of his cologne and peppermint breath made my skin jump and my belly flip. I had to lift to the very tips of my toes to meet his eyes, just barely.

His knuckles are still red from the face he had rammed it into last night. I almost forgot who he is. He had been relentless. Unforgiving. He hardly ever fights since no one has a broken-jaw wish. But that new kid didn't know. Well, he knows now. There were lots of lessons learned last night.

_Last night._

Jesus.

I get my toes to uncurl and stand tall with purpose.

"Ahem." I cough.

He doesn't even flinch; just keeps searching through his trunk, flipping wheeless skateboard decks, and checking under stacks of magazines. He grabs an empty can of Pepsi and tosses it to the back of the massive pile of junk.

"Um...ahem." I try again, my gusto downsized.

This time, a small smile curls at the side of his lips.

"What's up, Swan?" He asks as he shoves a small item into the pocket of his hoodie and shuts the trunk.

For a second, I'm totally blank. I mean, I can't for the life of me, think of the words that I had rehearsed since the moment he dropped me off at the corner of my block last night. My mind is completely taken hostage by the way he wets his lips with a single swipe of his tongue; the way his clover green eyes sweep over me, curving wherever I curve; the way his jaw tightens as his patience wears thin...

I snap back to life.

"Listen, what happened the other night...I mean, that can't ever happen again," I say.

His brows pull tightly together as he processes my words. He stares hard at me.

"What happened the other night?" he asks with an innocent frown.

I can feel my blood rushing to my cheeks; they burn under his watch.

"You _know_ what, don't...make me say it..."

He smiles as he ducks his head and leans his weight against his car.

"Never again, okay? I mean, maybe we can be friends or something...but we can't ever, _you know_, again."

He nods along as I talk, his brows pulled up, smirking like I'm cute. The more he nods, the more I keep talking.

"It's just that, she's my friend, you know? Like...you broke her heart, and I can't break it, too, you know?"

He stops nodding and sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair as he peels back his hood. Rolling his head, he squints as he looks up at the cloud-cluttered sky. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his cigarettes and places one of the American Spirits behind his ear. And all I can think about is the smell of his fingers last night, the smoky scent of them as he traced my lips before pulling them between his own. Memories of his tongue—_the way he made me want to scream_—start to surface, and I quickly shake it out of my mind.

"So...okay. Thanks." I turn swiftly and start toward school because staying here any longer will be detrimental to my resolve. I made a decision and I can't go back. There's no way I can go back.

I walk quickly, and I feel good walking away. I've said my piece and now I am walking away. Things are going according to plan.

"Hey, Swan?"

And I know that I shouldn't stop, and I am fully aware that I need to just book-it. But my legs come to an abrupt halt, and my shoulders turn, and the moment my toes face in his direction, it's like my feet are cemented to the floor and they won't budge—even as I see him walking quickly toward me, his eyes fastened on mine. And it's not until his hands cradle my cheeks, and his lips press firmly against mine, that I start moving...only I'm moving _to_ him—_closer_—as close as I can get.


End file.
